wonder land

the men burned the ground,

we went to wonderland , poloroid,

once more.

this time was longer, hours spent,

being there, seeing there.

the trees, the snow damage,

scarred the grass, recovering

with these children playing.

meanwhile the gardener seriously,

raked and mowed,buzzing as the bees,

past the faded boards

of poetry.

we walked and talked,

my work begins.

on return,

the men burned the ground.



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